My mind did one of those quick half-guilty canters round everything possible I might have done wrong before I came to the more sensible conclusion that his presence must have something to do with the accident.

About this time -- probably because he was happier than he had ever been before, possibly because he had more time that he could conscientiously call his own than he had had for many a well-spent year -- Truedale repaired to his room under the eaves, sneaking away, with a half-guilty longing, to his old play!